


The present has no ribbon

by SecondStarOnTheLeft



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Kink Meme, Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:11:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1752398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/pseuds/SecondStarOnTheLeft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How- why are you here?"</p><p>"I'm wearing <em>ribbons,</em>" she said, gesturing to herself with one hand and leaning up on the other elbow. Did he really need her to clarify?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The present has no ribbon

**Author's Note:**

> For [this](http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/22142.html?replyto=14660734) kink meme prompt. Eventual nudity rather than immediate, but the ribbons just wouldn't go away.
> 
> Title from Daft Punk's _Get Lucky_.

Mum and Dad were thirty years married, and had decided to have a whole weekend of Just Family partying at the house. This was fine, because Marg and Loras had made Garlan and Willas agree to grabbing everyone within a five-year age radius and move them into the lake house for the three nights. This had worked out excellently, because there weren't that many of them - the four of them, six cousins and Humfrey - and the lake house was pretty fucking big, and it even had a ground-floor bedroom, which had been brilliant on the second night when one of the kidlets had run into Willas' leg up at the main house and he'd been forced to use his wheelchair for a while.

Then, on the third night, they'd decided to play Truths.

Well, Loras had been all for playing Truth or Dare, but Will and Humfrey had put their feet down and said that, at nearly thirty and just gone thirty-one, they were too old to be running around the house in the nip, and besides, Will wouldn't be able to do anything too embarrassing because of his leg.

So, just Truths. They dug a bottle out of the recycling bin, settled round it in a circle, and let Humfrey, as oldest, go first.

It had started off pretty tame, but they'd gotten into the swing of it as more bottles were emptied and by the time Alla admitted to having lost her virginity to three people at the same time, well, it was a party and a half.

Marg's turn came (after she told the story of what had  _really_ gone down between her and Cersei Lannister), and the bottle landed on Will, who'd been quiet all night. 

"Come on, then," he said, rolling his eyes. "If you ask me about losing my virginity, darling, I think I have a free pass because you're my sister-"

"I already know you lost your virginity to Oberyn Martell," she said, waving that aside. "No, no, I've got a better question - you're going to hate it, but you  _have_ to answer."

Will had been single for years now - three years, ever since he'd broken up with Tyene Martell, which was... A weird kind of Oedipal if you thought about it, considering he'd had that thing with Tyene's dad and all. Three years was a long time, though, and Marg was pretty sure he hadn't even casually dated anyone in all that time, which didn't make sense. He was a chronic flirt, and he was a good looking bloke, so it wasn't as if he'd have trouble getting a girl or guy or whoever. 

"Are you asexual?"

He blinked at her, and then frowned.

"No, Marg," he said, "and if I were asexual, this would have been the shittiest way of outing me imaginable, don't you think?"

He looked weirdly angry with her, which wasn't like him - as a general rule, he never went further than exasperated with her and Garlan. Him and Loras fought like cats and dogs, of course, but he never got mad with Marg. Not until just now, which meant that there was something bothering him. There had to be something bothering him, or else... She didn't know what else. The idea of Will being mad at her was confusing, even when he was just after wheeling himself out of the room looking like he did when Loras made fun of him for something.

"I'll go after him," Garlan said, waving her back down - when had she stood up? - and lumbering out onto the conservatory in Will's wake. 

"Well," Humfrey said, draining the last of his bottle and setting it down very carefully. "I think that's put an end to that - gods above, Margaery, what possessed you to ask him something like that?"

"It's a perfectly valid question," she said defensively. "He hasn't been with anyone in  _years,_ and-"

"He was mad about Tyene and they broke up  _very_ fucking messily, for one," Humfrey said, and Marg rolled her eyes. There was barely six months between Will and Humf, and the two of them and Gargoyle were all as thick as thieves. "You leave him the fuck alone, rosebud, if you know what's good for you."

That was weird, too, just as weird as, when she looked out into the conservatory, the sight of Will's arm around Garlan's waist and Garlan's arm around Will's shoulders.

Marg hadn't seen Will so obviously upset, and that was why she decided to apologise properly the next morning.

 

* * *

 

"Leave it, child," he said, shoving against the side of her head and tugging the end of her ponytail. "Let's just forget it ever happened, okay?"

"Your therapist won't be happy with that."

"My therapist is constantly unhappy with me," Will said firmly, but he was smiling, so Marg assumed she was forgiven. "Just don't spring things like that on me out of the blue, alright? You know you can ask me anything you want, within reason. Just don't do it like that."

She hiked herself up onto the counter beside him, glad that it was just the two of them in the kitchen. He'd stayed sober last night, and she hadn't drank much, but everyone else was still in bed because after the game of Truths they'd kind of gotten hammered, so they'd be down for a while yet.

"I didn't mean to upset you," she said, "but it does... It has been a long time, Willas. Since you've gone out with anyone. I'm just wondering  _why._ "

The back of his neck and his cheeks were bright red, which meant he was lying when he oh-so-casually said "Maybe I just haven't found someone."

"Who are they, Will? Maybe I can help-"

"You can't," he said firmly. "Just- just leave it, Marg."

"Guy or girl?"

_"Margaery."_

"You're not rolling your eyes, so girl? Is it a girl?"

"Please, Marg-"

"Do I know her? Is she local? Is it someone you met at college?"

"It's Sansa, alright?" he said, planting his hands on either side of her on the worktop and leaning in close. "It's Sansa flaming Stark, except I keep giving her time to get over the bastards she seems to draw like flies, and every time I do, she finds another one. Alright? It's your best bloody friend, I've been mad about her for years. Happy now?"

 

* * *

 

Will disappeared back to Goldengrove that evening, but Marg stayed on a while to try and catch Humf and Gargoyle alone for five minutes.

"You shouldn't have made him tell you," Garlan said. "It was cruel, Marg. You know how private he is about things."

"If he'd just  _told me_ ," she said through gritted teeth, "I might have been able to help him with the damn timing."

Now that she thought about it, it made absolute sense - Sansa had a lot in common with Tyene Martell, just without the edges and with a collection of asshole ex-boyfriends. Sansa was sweet and clever and had a laugh like a foghorn. It made  _total sense_ that Will would fancy her on a physical level, too, because Sansa was a complete knock-out.

But for him to fancy her enough to stay single for  _three years?_ That seemed excessive. Even for intenser-than-thou Will. 

"Look, rosebud," Humfrey said, sliding down from the back of Mum's Queen Anne couch to look her direct in the eye, elbows on knees and so earnest it stung. "We only know Will is so into your friend because he told us last time he was in hospital and he was so off his face on morphine that he didn't know what he was saying. You've fucked up, kiddo, and I'm not sure how you're going to put it right."

 

* * *

 

Marg sure as hell knew one step she could take to put it right.

Sansa had broken up with the nicest boyfriend Marg had ever known her to have about four months back - which, you know, if Willas was waiting for a window of opportunity, where the hell was he? - and was still free and single. 

Marg had a feeling that Sansa wouldn't be exactly turned off by the idea of dating Willas. Willas Leyton Tyrell was, in Margaery's humble opinion, a damn fine catch. He was good looking - hey, he looked like her, right? - and smart and kind and and funny as shit. 

He was a catch. He  _was._ Marg was sure Sansa would be here for it.

"You know my brother?" Marg said, sliding a soy latte across the table to Sansa. "The oldest one, before you say anything about my having three."

"Willas," Sansa agreed, and Marg very nearly cheered because Sansa, in true Meg Cabot heroine form, went bright pink high in the cheeks and refused to meet her eyes. "What about him?"

"He's single, you're single, Mum and Dad already adore you..."

"Margaery?"

"Yes, Sansa?"

"Are you going to set me up with your brother or not?"

 

* * *

 

Sansa had always had a thing for Margaery's oldest brother - he was weirdly old-fashioned, very Oxbridge but without most of the snobbery, and so,  _so_ good-looking, too. 

He was even dressed the part - he was, admittedly, wearing jeans, but they were very dark indigo wash, and they didn't look out of place with his navy jacket and waistcoat, and his lovely cream shirt, and the loose royal blue tie and matching pocket square.

She felt underdressed, especially with the way he was looking at her.

"Surprise," she said, wishing she'd heard him coming so she'd been doing something other than lying on her front, reading the copy of  _Pride & Prejudice_ she'd found on the shelves downstairs. Then again, given that he didn't seem capable of moving, maybe it was just as well that she hadn't been showing off anything more than her back and legs and a tiny bit of her bum.

Ribbons had been her idea. Marg had been all for flowers, but Sansa had pollen allergies, so she'd turned foot-wide lengths of satin into ribbons and added tasteful bows. They looked good, she  _knew_ they looked good, so she rolled over very slowly and bit her lip.

"Sansa," he said, and his voice was low and rough and the sexiest damn thing she'd ever heard. He still didn't move any closer. "How- why are you here?"

"I'm wearing  _ribbons,_ " she said, gesturing to herself with one hand and leaning up on the other elbow. Did he really need her to clarify?

Gods, sometimes she wished that she had bigger breasts, and now was one of those times. The ribbons might look better is she had bigger boobs to fill them out.

"I'm not sure this is real," he admitted, dropping his bag and reaching back to push the door closed. His other hand was white-knuckled on his walking stick, but she forgot about that when his Adam's apple bobbed and she realised how much she wanted to kiss him all over, but especially his neck just now. "I know what you're here  _for,_ at least, but  _why?_ Did Margaery-"

"I want to be here," Sansa promised him, and then she surprised herself by holding out and hand to him. "I swear I do."

He sat on the edge of the bed, close to her but still not touching her. She watched him watch her as he stripped down to his jeans and boots, and was surprised to find that he still wore his tags.

"Never take 'em off," he said sheepishly when he saw her looking. "Sansa-"

His arms were firm with muscle, so she started there - she wanted to touch all of him, all at once, but she paced herself and started slow.

His breath still hitched when her fingers skimmed over the inside of his elbow, tendons standing out sharp under his skin, and there didn't seem to be enough air in the room all of a sudden.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, nudging his forehead against hers, then the tip of his nose, then his mouth, a soft little kiss that made her sigh. Then he kissed her again, longer and hungrier but still soft, still achingly slow, and she was lying mostly on top of him by the time he put his hand to the ribbon around her breasts.

"I'm all yours to unwrap," she teased breathlessly, nipping at his ear and making his breath catch again. "Want to make a start?"

His hands pressed flat to her back, one to the dip of her waist and the other between her shoulder blades, and he started to laugh.

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, kissing her temple and guiding her to sit up again. "I'm going to make this last as long as I can, don't worry. We'll take things nice and slow."

True to his word, he guided her back against the pillows, toeing off his boots before standing up to slide his jeans down his ridiculously long legs. The scarring around his left knee wasn't as bad as Marg had warned her, Sansa noted absently, more interested in the way the muscles in the bottom of his back moved when he bent to push his jeans down and again when, after he sat back down, he bent to pull off his socks. It shouldn't have been hot, not at all, but it  _was._ It so freaking was.

He was wearing boxer briefs, tighter fitting than she'd been expecting and very revealing.

Oh.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he said with a grin that was nine parts filth and one part pure glee at her apparently obvious disappointment that she didn't seem to be having much of an effect on him. "I have incredible self-control."

That was... Also weirdly hot, but she soon forgot to think about that when he slid one hand around the back of her head, twisting his fingers through her hair and setting his mouth to her neck, more of those slow, burning kisses across her skin. She tried to pull him closer, tried to  _get_ him closer, but he stayed firmly where he was, not even a little on top of her but close enough for her to feel him warm all down her side.

He shifted closer when he let go of her hair, still kissing her neck and shoulders and the very tops of her breasts as his fingertips skipped down her body, from the hollow under her ear all the way to the sharp peak of her nipple through the ribbon around her breasts to the edge of the ribbon wrapped around her hips. She jerked up towards him then, her nails biting sharp into his back, and he groaned against her collarbone and pressed just a little closer again.

"I want to touch you," she gasped when he pressed the flat of his tongue along the trail his fingers had seared into her skin. She wished he'd just pull the damn ribbon off her, but she also  _loved_ the added friction of the satin on her nipples as he kissed her, over and over, sucking just enough to make her twitch with the desire to push him flat on his back and just have her way with him. "I want to- I want-"

"I'm all yours, sweetheart," he murmured, and then the end of the ribbon was in his teeth and he was tugging it away and Sansa had never been more turned on in her  _life._

The slowness disappeared then, replaced with quick, intense focus that meant her mind just totally shut down and she didn't have the capacity to do anything other than let him kiss her and touch her and oh  _gods._

"Oh gods," she choked out, arching against him so hard she knew her back would hurt later, "oh gods, do that again, do it again  _please-"_

His fingers slipped back under the ribbon, one finger sliding inside her and one bent to press against her clit and his thumb stroking the very very top of her thigh, where it met her torso, and oh _god_ it felt so, so good, better than just about anything short of orgasm she'd ever felt.

He moaned her name into her mouth when she raked her nails hard across his shoulders, and she'd been wrong before,  _this_ was the hottest thing she'd ever heard, Willas Tyrell gasping and panting and  _moaning her name_ was the hottest thing in the whole world, she was sure of it.

She was so close, so desperately close because of his hand between her legs and his tongue in her mouth and the weight of him pressing her into the firm mattress, but she tried to hold on, wanting to wait for him, wanting to  _have him_ when she came, but he was so good with his hands that it was getting harder and harder with every passing second.

"Let go, sweetheart," he murmured, voice rumbling through his chest against hers, lips brushing feather-soft against her ear. "I'm not near done with you, I promise - just let go, Sansa, come on sweetheart, come for me."

And she did - not immediately, but after a little while of frantically bucking against his hand she came and screamed while doing so, because holy  _hell_ he was good. 

He rolled over to lie beside her then, and when she turned her head to look at him, he was grinning like he'd just won the lotto.

"Bastard," she muttered, trying to swing her leg over him when he stopped her - he kept his hand hooked behind her knee for a second, but then he was off, sliding it up the back of her thigh and down the back of her calf, over and over, and it was much more sensual than it had any right in being.

"I want to take off the other ribbon," he murmured against her lips. "Would you mind?"

She shook her head, eyes widening in surprise when he pushed himself down the bed so he could open the other ribbon with his teeth, too.

His eyes were a strange colour, a sort of golden-hazelly green, and they slid shut as he settled himself between her legs so he could more comfortably go down on her.

And oh gods oh gods all over again, because his hair was soft and his tongue was  _wicked,_ and she couldn't even scream this time, just a sort of whimper as he sucked at her clit for an eternity before leaning closer, nuzzling his cheek against the coarse curls on her mound before dipping back in to slip his tongue inside her, like into her while his nose pressed to her clit and oh,  _oh._

He was good at this, too, and seemed really into it - he licked long, firm, up the whole length of her, over and over again, fingers digging into her thighs as he held her as wide open as he could, and when she lifted her head to look at him she couldn't help but look at all of him, the whole long length of him stretched out between her legs. His back was gleaming in the duskish light, and he'd gotten rid of his pants at some point and oh  _fuck_ , he was rutting against the mattress and that was ten kinds of beautiful and she wanted him inside her right  _now._

"So close," she murmured, tightening her grip on his hair and trying to get closer. "Please, Willas, I want-"

He shushed her gently, and that was  _delicious,_ and he started to laugh when she came for the second time in fifteen minutes.

"If I'd known you were this good," she said, swinging into his lap as soon as he was lying alongside her again, before he could object, "I would've broken into your flat years ago."

He laughed even harder at that, one arm around her waist and the other out behind him somewhere, holding him up so he could kiss her even as he said "Condom, condom," against her mouth, even as she took the condom she'd left on the nightstand and put it on him, even as she wound the chain of his tags through her fingers and tugged him closer to kiss him harder and slid down onto him.

"Oh  _gods,"_ he gasped, and now it was her turn to laugh.

 

* * *

 

The next time Marg saw Will, it was National day at Duskendale, a horse from his stables had just won the damn race, and Sansa had her arm looped through his, looking proud as punch.

"I should drag secrets out of you two next," she said to Garlan and Loras. "Look what a good job I did with Willas'!"


End file.
